My mum has heard my story before, but things were different back then. It was June, I believe, she was highly confused by my words, and I still had not arrived at a point where I could properly nail down exactly who I was and why my gender was now somewhere in the area of undefined. If I remember correctly, I had gone as far to say I was transgender. That shows how much I had not yet come to a personal understanding of my self.
Months later, I chose to revisit this conversation with her, having obtained a fresh and well-supported understanding of why I’m the person that I am. Anyone who has read this blog knows the conclusion I’ve reached over a lengthy period of deliberation and soul-searching and I simply relayed that story to my mum as she ate her dinner. She was much more receptive and not fighting me like she was before. I was much more relaxed and able to support my thoughts with facts from my history that she had no clue ever existed.
“You never said anything” she told me.
Yah, I didn’t because it didn’t truly manifest itself as a real issue until I entered college. I had been able to adapt, survive, and unconsciously suppress the truth of how blurry and frustrated I was that I knew of no other option in real life other than to accept what society had pinned me as.
“I don’t care about being loved. I just want to feel safe to express who I am.”
My mum understood that sensibility that I had. That desire to show and dress as the girl I have been hiding within me for most of my life. I told her that I wanted to tell everyone else in this house and she agreed to support me when I wanted to. However, when I confronted her b/f one-on-one just to know if he wanted to know a general reason for my feminine dressings now or later, I was greeted with undesired and completely unnecessary animosity that spun my very simple question onto something to make me feel as though I’m insecure and just flat out foolish for trying to be considerate to him or others in the house.
My artsy friend was there at the time and I told him that this was the reason I can’t stand men. They just like to hear themselves talk and expect to always have the last word. All I asked was if he wanted to know the reason for my appearance now or later. Instead, he immediately attacked me with judgmental bullshit about telling me that I should let my father know because [my mum’s b/f] doesn’t even care. Telling me that I should feel comfortable with myself when that had nothing to do with me simply being open and honest with him so the air could be cleared.
I wanted to make myself clear to people I don’t particularly have affection for, but now I don’t even care. I’m frustrated, discouraged, and don’t even want to waste my breath. I need to though so I can deflate his pretentious, small-minded ego that now, apparently, consists of him implying I’m doing sexual things with my friend because I have my door closed. What bullshit.
I caught a glimpse of hope. Freedom. Acceptance. All I’ve wanted is to feel like I can be who I am. Instead, I’m accused of being uncomfortable accepting myself because I give a damn what people I don’t give a damn about think. Now, that man’s unnecessary hurtful words have made me feel as though I’m hardly worth even talking to. I really thought talking to my mum & having her support would make a difference in my mindset, but one excuse for a conversation ruined my confidence to all over again.
“I don’t care what you do. What matters is you being comfortable with yourself.”
Regardless of him saying that, I didn’t need to be attacked or be told of something I already fucking know I need to do. Especially not by someone who doesn’t know shit about my life, what I’m feeling, who I’ve become, and where I’m going. Can’t ever be peace-loving because he ALWAYS has to control the conversation. My friend was waiting at the steps, seemingly ready to come down if things escalated, but I took the bullshit he had to say and went upstairs to enjoy some anime with another person for once.
Why do I care so fucking much…? Because I don’t.
The truth is, I’m simply embarrassed, NOT insecure, when someone who knows me doesn’t know the reason why I want to be comfortable in my skin after posing as a male up till now…It’s a constant tug-of-war between my own desires of wanting to share my heart and resisting the need for acceptance. This is such a personal thing for me…so my heart gets involved even though I may not love or care for the person. Every time I think I can be safe in a place where I shouldn’t have to worry about such things, I am sorely disappointed by someone’s thoughtless, antagonistic words/actions.
Overall though, the day was wonderful. Got to shop at a number of places, received some additional makeup training, and gathered with my two close friends for lunch for the first time in a number of months. Pic of me yesterday just because I was so happy to go out as Ren. Got approved by my meganekko friend who only had seen pics until yesterday, and was called “miss”, “ma’am”, and “sweetie” a number of times in my out-and-aboutness. Sorry it’s hard to show my whole body, but apparently “my ass would make any man happy”. Best quote from best friend is best quote. Anyway, don’t like asking people to take pics of me because I’m such a annoying bitch which it comes to getting the right shot. Regretting not smiling more (bad habit) because I purposely wasn’t trying to look cute. First time wearing my pendant – kudos if you know where it’s from.
Happiness is so fleeting, and, because of this, people have no qualms taking it away from others.